


And the wind was quiet

by Rainjuly



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate universe - Kingdom Timeline, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Flowers, M/M, Magic, Wind - Freeform, garden, nothing graphic, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21776713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainjuly/pseuds/Rainjuly
Summary: Andrew just wanted to keep his promises. Those promises were the only thing important to him. They kept him together. And he filter them wisely.He never really knew how he ended up in between these vibrant and bright colors of flowers, not quite watching them dancing, and not fighting the wind that blew towards him. He never knew how he somehow stood there, waiting, waiting, waiting.Missing—Hepromised.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	And the wind was quiet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i heard you in the wind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20694686) by [exactly13percent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/exactly13percent/pseuds/exactly13percent). 



The flowers were blooming.

Within his line of sight spread ahead a number of colors, differed in red, blue, yellow, or in-betweens. Different shades. Different lights. Different names, different shapes, different odors. Scattered on the ground, covering the hills. Hidden away from the rest of the world by woods and mountains. They were only laying there, completely unaware of everything that was happening. Unaware of every cruel words stated. Unaware of how some souls scattered right within their periphery. _Andrew’s._

The cruel world wasn’t theirs to mind, their only business were dancing with the wind, swaying, swaying, and blooming in bright colors.

Someone might call it divine. But for Andrew, it resembled cheating. This should not be right, for those irises to cheerfully greet him when he walked through it. It was so unfair, for those roses to keep dancing when he stood there watching. Not like this. Not now. It was not right.

Andrew, as he was, had never been a fit there. For all the darkness that he seemed to always carry within and outside himself. It looked epic, did not it? For Andrew and his brooding nature, all lost in the middle of those bright, colorful petals. What he was, was hard, unforgiving force. Andrew would never belong here. Maybe, the way he dress himself only further strengthening how Andrew did not suit the place, with these fabrics. All black. All dark.

Unlike _him._

Andrew hated the flowers, and everything it reminded him with.

And the wind blew through his hair, made the strands flew everywhere. The wind always blew from a direction to another. But never to the right one. Never to where he wanted to go. Never to where it mattered the most.

Because he did. Andrew had tried to follow it, once. But it had never worked. _The wind wouldn’t want to help you._

It was cold.

Andrew hated the wind and everything it reminded him with.

And this place was always about that, about twirling flowers and gentle, infuriating wind. He hated both so much.

But Andrew always came. He came. He came and came again. Because he promised.

And he always kept those, no matter what it would cost of him. No matter how much it demanded of him.

_“I promise you.”_

No matter how much it destroyed him.

.

_The wind was quiet today._

-o-

Andrew worked this way —it’s a job for him, it paid the bills, and kept him from being bored for a while. His brother never actually approve of this line of occupation, but Andrew did not care about what his brother had to say. Because if Andrew let him, he might actually had a lot of those.

They live in the lower town of the kingdom, the two of them, where it was a bit farther from the castle, and they could live amongst farmers. It was preferable than the alternative, which was having to deal with hundreds of guardsmen lounging, or stupid knights with their self-righteousness and their tons of unsolved problems.

Aaron, his twin brother, was an apprentice of the king’s physician, and he had to take a long walk back and forth from the castle each day. But Andrew knew somehow he did not mind, because he, too, hated the noisy upper town. He already had to be there in the day, there were no way he wanted to in the nights. Maybe once he became a full physician, he would need to live in the castle, but that was something to expect in several years, and for now this was it. Not that they ever discussed this, or anything else, really.

When he finally was home, Aaron sat on his desk, candles alight and books all over the table, Andrew ignored him in favor of going into his room. He light a candle himself and opened the window, letting the moonlight in.

He sat on his bed, and recalled his day, another promise was made today, something other people might give for free, but not from Andrew. He was paid rather beautifully today, money-wise, and non-money wise.

It was one of those stupid knights. And Andrew was supposed to keep this promise for a month. And that will be it.

It was somehow amusing, in a sense, how much people was willing to give to have some reassurance over something. He didn’t know how it had happened. But there would be always some client. Some of them came from neighboring kingdoms, so far, far, far away. They seek Andrew for something nobody would not be able to give so easily (easy, not cheap) —a promise that would be kept. A promise that was not a lie.

Aaron always made his thoughts clear about what would happen if Andrew kept doing this, that this might be Andrew’s undone. That it would destroyed him far beyond. But that already happened, did not it? And Aaron had no business of giving him that piece of thought when he too, was holding another end of one of those promises.

Suddenly, Andrew was pulled out of his thoughts when the wind blew in, trespassing his windowsill, towards him.

It was so serene, and it blew to Andrew like a whisper. Or a whistle. As if it was trying to coax him to understand something. Like the wind was trying to tell him a secret.

Then, with the wind came in a piece of parchment, flight in carefully, nothing like what it would have been if it had been thrown in. It was floating, floating, floating in gently, delicately, and stopped on his mahogany desk. The parchment was thin, no bigger than his palm.

Did this really came with the wind? How come?

He carefully lift the parchment, it was folded in two, and when he opened it, a strange handwriting greeted him, loopy in places but had a definite character in it. There was not Andrew’s name written but by the content of it Andrew could be sure that it most definitely was written for him.

_See me tomorrow afternoon, in between the mountains, there was a place where flowers can grow so freely, and for the wind to run as they want, and I might have something you would be interested to keep. I will wait._

_If you are not sure, you can always feel the wind, you will know where to go._

There was no name attached. Only those words on a parchment.

.

Andrew had his promises. He held them close to his chest, kept them safe, made sure they never out of sights. Sometimes Andrew thought, they were all he had. The promises. They were what kept him stand, kept him sane. Andrew didn’t keep them, they kept him.

He made them, he protect them, and he never broke them.

That was what he did the best.

And he did not really know what to expect when he came that afternoon, with a bag filled with necessities, riding his beautiful, graceful mare towards the place promised. Andrew and his mare traveled between tall grasses and quiet trees. Aware. Aware. Aware of the caress of the wind. Aware of them whispering something he could never comprehend. Aware of the hushed voice he would not believe.

Aware of direction he never knew but somehow understood.

Some time later, if Andrew thought of this, he would think that this might be what all _he_ was. The wind. The intangible whispers. If only Andrew had known.

He didn’t even know what he would have done if he had known.

When he almost reached the place, he smelt it first before he saw. It had mixed fragrance, something like roses, but not quite, because it definitely had other kinds too, like irises. Or even jasmines. He was no expert, but he knew there would be a lot of those. Flowers.

And then he saw it. The garden. The thousands flowers. The colors. The petals.

It was tucked safely between the mountains, surrounded by trees, keeping them from sights. Like a secret.

“You came,” the voice came from behind him.

He turned around, and he was met with the bluest eyes he has ever seen. He could not compare them to the sky, for it was slightly deeper than that, or the ocean, because it wasn’t quite that deep. Not that too. It’s something in between. And Andrew loved that, in-betweens, because it was always something else. A new color that could only be associated with the object itself.

Those blue eyes were assessing him, while Andrew did the same towards the owner. He wasn’t that much tall, he was probably only a few inches taller than Andrew himself, not far, just several of those to make a little difference.

He had red hair that reminded Andrew of fire. Despite his faded colored clothing, grey, another grey, and what seemingly supposed to be white, he was still so striking. And he looked like he belonged there. Between those flowers. Between those blooms.

He looked like someone who belonged to nature.

He was, in a way, for the lack of better word that could depict him completely —beautiful. Not that beauty was something Andrew cared much, he only indulged on them sometimes. A very few sometimes. And Andrew wasn’t here for that. He was here for something that _he_ might be able give Andrew. Something worth trading. And probably a bit of excitement he had not felt in years. _No_ , not that kind of excitement. Just, the curiosity he might draw out from Andrew was a thing to chase.

“You were the one who asked me to. Who are you?”

He seemed to be caught off guard by the question. Like he wasn’t expecting it. Like he thought Andrew would just do anything with him without knowing who he was facing first. Like the question wasn’t quite normal to be asked between people who had never met before.

“I am Neil,” that was all what he seemed to be willing to offer.

But Andrew needed more than that. What was there about a name anyway? Sometimes those turned out to be the less significant in the matter knowing someone. A who was not something to be answered by mere name. A name could be a lie. So Andrew asked the question that had been ringing in his head since yesterday, “Why here?”

“Because where you came from was never a safe choice for me.”

Andrew thought of that answer and the exact words that was chosen to deliver it. And then it drew on him, “You are a runner.”

Classic. He thought the reason was better than this. More interesting. More exciting. A runner was just that —a runner, someone who could never settle just because there were always ghosts haunting them, of pasts, of someone they angered, of a life that had been left.

He stretched the edge of his mouth, seemingly attempting a smile, it only made him looked sad, and broken, “I am.”

Andrew didn’t need more broken things. His hands were already full of them.

“I am not trading with a dead man walking.”

The man flinched at his words, probably knowing how true that was. Andrew was in no business of planning to be convinced, but he, Neil, seemed to try anyway, as he was walking closer to Andrew. And that alone made Andrew even wanting it more —to be convinced— to his own dismay. And then he stopped, right in front of Andrew. They weren’t standing that close, but still close enough. He could study Neil’s face better this way, and he could see those freckles that scattered on his skin for the first time. And Andrew suddenly hated the fact that he would be able to memory it perfectly.

Softly, Neil said, “You haven’t even heard what’s there to offer.”

Andrew regarded him for a moment. Sometimes it was safer for him and everyone if he just declined something that was bound to be dangerous, he had almost always done that before, even before knowing what it was about. Because knowing, hearing those words sometimes could endanger him. If not because of his self-destructive tendencies, the words itself was dangerous.

What would bring more harm than a man that would not meet him in a place that was not a garden in between mountains, telling him he was in a run? Runners were boring. But they were always dangerous too.

Andrew looked at the flowers over Neil’s shoulders, the wind was taking them in slow dance.

And whatever little self-preservation that was left in him warned him the perils. He just was never good at listening at that poor little thing. Besides, with everything here to remember, would Andrew be able to just ignore it in matter of months, not asking himself whether he should just have taken it instead?

“Tell first, how did you send that letter?”

His was looking at Andrew straight to his eyes when he said, “I asked the wind.”

“The wind.” Andrew repeated. He didn’t want to believe it, it didn’t make any sense, but he saw it. He saw it that night how the wind bring the letter in. _It was truly the wind._

And Neil, as expected, never elaborated.

Andrew sighed, ignoring all the signs of danger screaming right to his ears, he said, “Fine. Talk.”

Neil gave him a small smile.

.

Andrew was good at what he did. Everyone talked about it. Words flew from mouth to mouth. But it never prepared Andrew to understand how those words get here, beyond those mountains and woods? Reaching this garden and its occupant. That, if Neil actually lived here. At least for the time being.

The wind?

Because that was what Neil was saying. In several sentences that he thought would give enough of explanation, he told Andrew. That he talked to the wind. That he could understand them, and they understood him in return. That they kept him safe. That they would tell him when people with malicious intention were coming. They helped him _run._

That was when Andrew realized he wasn’t there to be asked of some protection, of some guarantee to be able to survive. To keep running. He was there for the opposite, something he had not expected of this man.

Andrew studied Neil, his voice turned a bit more desperate, and his emotion plastering his face, and his voice was saying, “Andrew, all I ask for is for you to come to this place, once in every moon cycle, see me, talk to me. Because I had no one to talk to, besides the wind.”

Andrew was right. Oddly it did not felt so satisfying to be right. Not this time.

Andrew sat down, in between those flowers. And Neil followed him, his hair was on the same level as red roses behind him, and he really really really looked like he could blend in, no one would be able to find him. If only he seek those protection from these flowers, not from the wind. He could camouflage just fine. Another beauty in between beauty.

Andrew didn’t want to look at those eyes. He just asked, “Why?”

“Because,” Neil hesitated, “The wind was always there. It always made sure of my safety. But it’s the wind. It always moves. It always takes me to someplace new. Sometimes I really got tired of that, when someone from my past catch up to me, the wind will lead me to run, farther, and farther. I want an anchor. I want someone to keep me here. And I heard what you do. I know you can do that.”

Andrew can, but this thing was not an easy one, and risky. He was always so so selective of what he would and would not do. He had to make sure that the promises did not cross one another. And he didn’t do things that was almost impossible to keep, or sometimes the too hard ones. But he heard what he was asked for, and he still wanted to know what was there to bargain.

“What will I get in return?”

“I have money. Lots of them.”

“You said interesting.”

Neil sighed, “And a favor.”

Andrew almost snorted. He would not have a favor of a runner that speaks to the wind. But then Neil added, “of the wind. Not of me. I can ask it for you. Anything. Anything that you can never do but the wind can.”

Andrew regarded him. Neil just shrugged, “And answers. We will talk anyway, so that’s already part of it. I know you have questions.”

“First of all, why would I have questions for you? You think you are that special? What kind of people you think I’m dealing with? And second, you are a liar. You avoided question and not quite answering them at best. That’s what you will do.”

“Aren’t you a bit curious? I think I’m interesting enough as it is. It’s not everyday you see a man who can ask the wind a favor for you. And you still will meet me once every month. Maybe we will talk. Maybe you somehow could get the truth out of me. Isn’t that interesting for you? I heard you only take the interesting ones.”

Andrew did. And if only Neil was not right.

Neil seemed to catch it, he smiled, and said, “So, would you take it?”

Andrew closed his eyes, and voice softer than he intended to, he said the words he had said to many others, _“I promise you.”_

.

Andrew came to see him the next time the moon came to full cycle. He found Neil lying underneath a tree, one that he didn’t really know what kind, on the near edge of the flowers. His back was against the grass, and he was wearing another grey. At least, not the ones he saw him in the last time they had seen each other. His arm was covering his eyes. Apparently he was asleep.

Andrew said, “Wake up.”

And just like that, Neil did. He jumped like someone threw something at him instead said a couple of soft spoken words. He looked at Andrew and then seemed to realize who was sitting beside him before slumped down against the tree trunk, and said, “Oh. Andrew, you are here.”

Andrew sat down beside him, “Well, I am.”

Neil looked ahead, over the flowers, up there on the blue sky, “I was waiting for you. I fell asleep.”

“Clearly.”

“How was your trip?”

“Really? That’s what you are asking?”

Neil chuckled, “I don’t know. You are the one who run around making promises and talk to people, or are you not? Remind you that my life doesn’t exactly support a lot of small talks.”

That did not mean Andrew had a lot of experience of it either. They seek him because they always wanted something from him. And when they saw him, they would be really vocal about it, unprompted. Even when they were not, Andrew made sure to immediately make them to get to the point.

Andrew looked around, “Do you live here?”

“Yes, for the time being.”

“Where do you even live around here?”

Neil shrugged, “Just there and there. I sleep wherever. You know, one art you mastered out of years of running.”

“Of course,” Andrew paused, “Why then, are you running?”

“Ah, that.” He brought his blue, blue, blue eyes to Andrew, and smiled bitterly, “Someone just really would like it if I die.”

Andrew rolled his eyes, “Well I gathered that. Who is this someone.” Andrew didn’t make it sound like a question.

“Someone who supposedly cares about me, I guess. Not that I know anything about that.”

“Let me guess, your family?”

Neil shrugged, “Probably.”

“Probably.”

The wind blew in. Andrew looked at Neil. He was closing his eyes, letting the wind caress his face. And softly, he smiled. Like he knew a secret Andrew did not. Probably, that was the case anyway. Maybe he was sharing whispers with the wind. Maybe there’s something happening that only the wind knew. Maybe the wind had just told him a joke. Andrew would never know.

When Neil finally gave Andrew his attention, he smiled at Andrew, a full smile.

And Andrew hated it.

“Hey, Andrew, do you have a family?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“Ah, come on, humor me. A man as warm as you must have stories to tell.”

Andrew glared at him, “I have a brother.”

Neil just kept looking at him expectantly, expecting Andrew to give out more. When he himself never elaborated or explained more. But Andrew decided to do it anyway. So he said, “And a cousin. In neighboring kingdom. I haven’t seen him in years.”

“So it’s just you and your brother?”

“Hm.”

“How does it feels to have a brother who doesn’t want you dead?”

“Hm. Not sure if he’s one of those.”

“Oh,” Neil looked away, “He wants you dead?”

“Probably. At some point. He wouldn’t dare to try, though. He needs me.” It was true.

“So he’s not actively trying to kill you like my f—my family?”

Andrew regarded him, “No.”

Neil dropped his gaze to his hands, he has long, slim fingers. And he was looking at them very intently that Andrew itched to inspect them himself. And that look on his face made Andrew regret saying what he had said.

“Andrew.”

“What.”

“No. I don’t know. I don’t know how to say it right now.”

Andrew watched him from the corner of his eyes and didn’t say a thing.

.

Family was a tricky thing for Andrew. Years ago, it was not always like this for him.

There had not been a brother when he grew up. Or a place to be called home. Or any safe place at all to be. He was always by himself, owned by families he didn’t want to remember but always would. None of them treat him well. Half had been terrible, the rest was worse.

The families had bought him, hurt him, and sold him. Same cycle. Same cycle.

It always had been that way for as long as he could remember, which could mean, since forever.

Then there had been Aaron who grew up with a shame excuse of a mother, and a cousin who turned up out of nowhere.

Andrew remembered clearly, and his perfect memory would never let him forget.

That night, in his room, when the rain had been pouring down so hard outside, had been the very first time he held that piece of parchment. He was glad he secretly tried to learn reading at some point in life. He remembered what was written, word, by word. And how he had been quietly thinking about it all. That somehow it had turned out that he had had a brother, a _twin_ brother. He had not had time to sort his feeling about the matter before dread was filling him to the brim.

Aaron had wanted to meet him.

Cass Spear, the first person who actually treated Andrew like human being would have been delighted.

And so had her son. Who had really really really liked the idea of twins. And how he would have really liked it with two instead of one in bed.

He could not have let Aaron met him. Not with everything. He had never met this person, and all Andrew knew was that they had supposedly shared the same face, and Andrew would never have let him anywhere near _this._ His _life_. When it had been like _this._

So he had stolen a very expensive heirloom from the family and run. Gotten caught, and ended up in the prison.

And then, out of nowhere, a man who claimed to be his cousin, Nicky, whose fortunate enough about the money, had freed him.

So here they were.

.

This promise worked both way. If one end was cut, then it would be broken. Andrew knew how to keep his end, but he was not sure how the other end would fare. Some of nights, when he thought of flower petals and how the wind seemed to take a liking in breaking into his room, he could picture how someday, he would just show up in that secret garden, kept by the mountains, only to find flowers swaying, without someone with blue eyes and interesting stories walking in between.

Maybe he should talk to Neil about this. If someday that happen, how long Andrew would have to come, to keep his end when the tie was broken in the middle, to hold on to the half kept promise? How long would he have to do that?

And by the next moon cycle, when he arrived at the garden, he saw Neil bent in between white jasmines, smelling them. His face looked calm and his eyes were closed. He seemed to notice Andrew presence because when he opened his eyes, they were directed right to Andrew. And Neil nodded.

He walked closer to Neil, fighting off the fragrance of jasmines. And feeling out of place in between white. Neil slides closer to him.

“How are you?” he whispered.

“Peachy,” Andrew answered.

Neil smiled, he picked a jasmine flower and put them on his hair. A speck of white against burning red.

Andrew hated it.

“The wind says the jasmines like me.”

“Oh so now the jasmines have feelings.”

Neil smirked, “No. The wind probably made it up. I like these flowers though.”

“What a talented wind, a postman, a guard, a story maker.”

Neil snickered, but he plucked another flower and offer it to Andrew.

“What on earth are you supposed I would do with that thing?”

“Put it on your hair, Andrew. The wind said they liked to be put in the hair.”

“No.”

But then, that moment, as Neil outstretched his hand to offer Andrew the flower, he noticed several scars on his fingers and hands. Scars that hadn’t been there before. A new ones. Some were not even properly healed, the gashes still looked rather new. Andrew looked at it. And then looked at him.

Neil noticed.

“Ah, this,” he watched his hands.

“Well, I didn’t stay here this month, no. I ran into someone from past someplace, and they managed to catch me this time. The wind and I weren’t so fast. But I get out of it. There’s scars, yes. But I managed, besides, I’m back here today.”

Andrew looked at him.

“What is it?”

Andrew sighed, “You.”

“Me?”

“You got caught because you didn’t listen to the wind, didn’t you? Because you didn’t want to stray too far.”

“Ah, you really caught me there.”

“Do you want to go back that much?”

“Yes, Andrew. I really really really wanted to go back.”

“You can never stay while the ghosts are still haunting you.”

“I know. But I still want to try.”

“You could die.”

“You keep dangerous promises, Andrew. You have no right to say that.”

That was actually true. “I was just trying to remind you. Well, all the runs are going to be a waste if in the end you will only get caught, you will lose all your effort doing it.”

“Maybe, Andrew, I was just so tired.”

Andrew wanted to pluck that jasmine out of his hair, he kept his hands to himself, “But you don’t want to give up.”

“Yes.”

“But it’s not a solution for you too.”

“No, Andrew.”

It’s a desperate attempt. Andrew knew well enough of those. For in his arms, covered by black fabrics sewn together, were scars of proof.

“Here, tell me a truth, a true truth. Don’t lie or avoid. You will get one too in return.”

Neil looked at him. “Why are you doing this?”

“Are you taking a turn?”

Neil considered that, and nodded.

“Because I know all about desperation.”

Neil watched him. Andrew offered nothing more. That was the truest truth he could give him. He let Neil watch him, seeking something that his face would never give. But he seemed to be satisfied with that.

Andrew had enough, “Now, now, my turn, Neil. Who actually is this person you are running away from? I don’t think it is your whole family.”

Neil looked at Andrew and answered firmly, “Not. It’s not. It’s my father.”

.

Andrew never asked him how long he was going to have to wait if Neil never showed up.

.

Neil was sitting near the stream that ran in the middle of the flower beds the next time he visited the garden. He was hugging his leg with a hand, chin resting on a knee. In his other hand was a small tree branch and he was using it to poke at the water, disturbing the flow.

Andrew walked through annoying-smelt lavender and approached Neil. The purple and blue lavender waved at him, and he completely ignored them.

Neil didn’t look up, so Andrew simply went to sit near him.

“My turn, now,” Neil said, even before Andrew settled.

Andrew waited as Neil seemed like trying to phrase his question. His brow furrowed, like he knew what he was going to ask and also didn’t. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, before finally seemed to settle to one question, and asked, “Why these promises, Andrew?”

“It’s easy,” he answered, simple. Because it was true. It was why the first time someone he did not care at all asked something of him, he just saw that he could take something out of it so he just did. It was not at all hard to do it. “From the beginning, I hate lying. I said what is true. Now I am getting paid for it, so why not?”

Neil regarded his answer for a moment. And then he shrugged, as if accepting his answer.

“Not what you were expecting?”

“I am not quite sure what I was expecting, but that sound way much simpler than these scenarios I came up with, so. I thought there’s terrible sad story behind it.”

“Oh, there is.”

Neil raised an eyebrow.

With a very bored, monotone voice and a straight face, he said, “My whole life is a terrible sad story, the promise was a part of it, so it counts. Now you can clap and shed a tear.”

Neil rolled his eyes, “You think you are funny, Andrew.”

“I don’t.”

“Right, you think you are sad.”

Andrew didn’t want to say anything for that, so they fell into silence. It didn’t feel suffocating. Nor the ones that Andrew usually avoided, nor those ones that made Andrew just left. It didn’t, so Andrew stayed. Just sitting there, looking at the water, because he refused looked over to the blooming flowers. They were too vibrant and too bright for his liking.

That afternoon, the sun was exceptionally hot, and for the first time in forever, he thought that the wind was actually pleasant. It blew softly around him, it didn’t feel cold or harsh, and it was refreshing. That’s all what Andrew knew about the wind. Unlike Neil, who claimed to understand it.

The wind passed by, and for the second time, Andrew saw how a smile would look on Neil’s face. It’s rather annoying. It was beautiful and annoying.

Eyes closed, Neil asked, “You don’t want to take your turn Andrew?”

Andrew was still staring at him when he asked, “What did it just say?”

Neil opened his eyes, seemed to be confused, before finally getting what Andrew was asking, “Oh,” his face changed into a surprised one, before attempting to answer, “Uh, it’s....”

Andrew raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“It’s.... well, it’s a secret between me and the wind and I am not used to tell others about it but.... okay, it was giving me an opinion about you.”

“An opinion,” Andrew stated, “About me.”

“Um, yeah.”

“Care to explain?”

“Wait for your next question.”

“Technically, what I asked is what did it just say, not what it was about. So, you haven’t answered my question yet. Therefore, go on.”

He actually groaned, “Fine. It said you are one of the small number of people that actually interacted with me face to face and haven’t got a slightest bit of bad intention. Satisfied?”

He wasn’t satisfied. That’s the farthest way to explain what he felt, “No.”

Neil sighed, exasperated.

For the first time ever, Andrew didn’t know what to do with an information he gathered. Because right in that moment, he was looking at an embarrassed Neil and actually did not have a single clue of what to think of it all. Because it was somehow true, that Andrew didn’t have a single bad intention towards him, all he wanted was a fair trade.

Neil was a stranger, mostly. And he didn’t just have bad intention to anyone he crossed path with. Not when unprompted. Andrew didn’t usually harbor good thoughts on other people, but that didn’t mean he had to feel like he actively wanting to harm them, without reason at all. And Neil definitely fell into that category.

.

Years ago, when Andrew had been freed from the jail to finally meet his brother, he had known there would have been a lot of difference between them. They had stood side by side. And when he had looked at his brother, he almost could have related it to looking at a mirror. Almost.

Aaron and he himself had been nothing alike. They had been raised by different pain and past, so far from each other that the resemblance they had only started and ended on the surface. Even those, had been also corrupted, for that he had scars on his body, scars that Aaron had not nor should have shared.

Once he had been freed by his cousin and had finally met his brother, he had been left to live with Aaron and _his_ mother. And it hadn’t take long for Andrew to understand how Aaron’s life had been. That the difference had not been that far-fetched. That they had had to live in a kind of tragedy. One or another.

The mother, a woman who had used to be a lady of a good family, and then had gotten banished for some reason Andrew had not known nor had wanted to learn. She had ended up in one of ancestors’ home and spent fortune that hadn’t been hers anymore for years to buy liquors and _herbs_.

She had abused, hurt, hit Aaron repeatedly.

And had given Aaron things that should have never put into his body. Those that she had taken herself.

It had not taken much for Andrew to know he should protect his brother. His method should have been Andrew’s and Andrew’s only business to mind.

He had promised Aaron to always stay with him, and that had been the first promise. The first one as the beginning all of this. He probably had made hundreds others of those. And now he was keeping them all. _That was how it all started, Neil._

He never lied, nor actually told Neil the complete story.

The next time he saw Neil, it was raining on the garden. The rain wasn’t heavy, but Andrew and his mare was wet. He saw Neil out there, sitting, facing the flowers, drenched from head to toe, but seemingly not minding it at all. This time, he was wearing battered down orange clothes, and it clashed with his hair.

When he saw Andrew, he nodded and walked away. Andrew just followed him. And it turned out, there was a cave nearby, on one of the mountains. Neil went in without hesitating, Andrew looked at the cave skeptically, before the rain went wilder and he followed Neil in.

Inside, it was significantly darker, the air was humid and the cave wasn’t that deep. Neil was there, back against the hard wall of the cave, and sat on a rock.

“Any question for your turn today?” Andrew said, in lieu of a hello as he sat beside him.

Neil didn’t answer for a long time, before he settled on, “You said your life is sad.”

“Everyone’s is.” Because it’s true, at least, Andrew mused, everyone thought their life was sad. That, if his clients were anything to go by.

“Maybe true, any particular reason why you said it is?”

“The world is a cruel place, Neil.”

Neil smiled, “Not so much. I think it’s not. It’s the people in it that are cruel.”

“Hm,” Andrew was wet and now that he wasn’t under the rain, the cold catch up on him, “Let’s see. Your question should be more specific. And because it’s a vague question, the answer is not going to be detailed. So, here: I never met my brother until I was sixteen. We are twins. That mother kept him, and sold me away.”

“Oh,” was all response he got.

The wind somehow blew into the cave, and Andrew shivered. He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but it was cold.

Neil stood up, went a bit deeper to the cave, brought out a bag, and take out a piece of clothing and offered it to Andrew. It was hideous. And supposedly white, though not quite anymore. And Andrew wouldn’t be caught dead in it.

“No, your clothes are awful.”

Neil rolled his eyes, and put his clothes back to the bag and threw it inside, “Sure, this time, I’ll shed a tear on your grave when you died because you are too cold and too cool for my perfectly ordinary, normal, clothes.”

Andrew’s time to roll his eyes, “Well, my life survived all these years despite every attempt made against it, so it probably wouldn’t yield to cold.”

“Ah so he said, my skin was made by metal and my bones from stones.”

“You think you are clever, Neil.”

“I do. I am.”

Andrew ignored that. It was getting even colder, but Neil somehow didn’t seem to be bothered. He was also just as soaked as Andrew did.

“You really don’t want my clothes, Andrew-I’ll-only-wear-black?”

“No,” Andrew answered stubbornly. Neil shrugged.

He looked at him. It was dim in the cave, and outside wasn’t that bright either in the stormy rain. His hair looked more like brown in this light, Andrew decided he would ask a more personal question this time, “What about your mother?”

Neil actually flinched.

“What about her?”

“Your father was hunting you throughout the land, where is she?”

“Dead.”

Andrew looked at him, and Neil continued, “She’s really dead. When I was a child, my father sold me to a family, the richest of the richest with their shady business, because he had debt to them. My mother knew what would be there waiting for me if I ended up there so she stole money and took off and took me with her. We ran.”

Andrew listened, and stocked the information in Neil box in his brain, that’s the only label, for now. He’s yet to decide whether it’s mild dangerous or was going to be an enormous problem for Andrew. Seeing as how things went, it probably closer to the second.

“Once father got too close and she got killed, and since then, it was only just me.”

“And the wind,” Andrew supplied.

“And the wind.”

“So you have this ability talking to the wind since when? Baby?”

“That’s another question.”

“You can double your turn.”

“Fine. Yes I suppose I have this ability since as long as I can remember. I didn’t know what it was, my mother scolded me when I asked about this weird kind of voice that didn’t exactly sound like a language but understandable to me. So I never actually told my mother about it. It’s really scary for me, I couldn’t predict her, I don’t know what she would do if she knew. When I start to understand that the wind was trying to guide me, I made a suggestion to my mother, but she, who already knew everything about running away and shortcuts and forests wouldn’t listen. We got captured several times because of that.”

“You didn’t tell her.”

“No.”

“You told me.”

“I trust the wind. It said you mean no harm to me, so.”

“All your instincts come from the wind.”

“It never betrayed me.”

“By staying here you betrayed it.”

He smiled sadly but never said anything. They sat side by side for so long, Andrew actually lose track of time staring at stones in the cave. Thinking. Wondering. He let his mind slipped everywhere else. He thought about his brother. About his cousin. His clients. And deliberately trying not to look at Neil and his scared hands. Or his fiery colored hair that looked dimmer in this light.

When the rain was cleared outside, it was almost dusk.

Neil stood up, “I’ll take my turns next time.”

Andrew nodded.

And then, he walked Andrew to his mare. He smiled softly at Andrew before Andrew took off.

Andrew could recall the exact picture of how that smile looked like, how it looked with the golden sky of the nightfall as a background, and how it made him somehow brighter, and Andrew could not help that he thought of it on his bed before he slept.

.

Neil kept his promise once more, when Andrew showed up to their garden, he beamed up at Andrew by the river, like he was thrilled to see Andrew. And it made him look luminous. He looked even brighter than the sunflowers over there.

Andrew did not really know the protocol of responding that kind of smile. If it was any person other than Neil, he would scowl. He actually tried, but that didn’t work. At least, his face could still remain impassive. He just looked at him.

“Andrew! I’m taking my turns!”

“Hm.” Was all Andrew gave him.

Andrew sat with a few distance beside the water. Neil did not seem to like it because took a few steps and put himself right next to him, he still left a bit between them, though.

“Your mood is even brighter than those stupid yellow sunflower, any particular reason?”

Neil frowned, “I thought this was my turn.”

“It is. It isn’t me taking turn, give it or don’t give it.”

“Well, is one not allowed to be happy sometimes?”

“You are not exactly the definition of sunshine, Neil.”

“Definitely not,” and he still had the nerve to beam up once more, “I’m just in a really good mood today. A whole month without anyone running right behind me. I had a very calm days, which is, mind you, pretty rare. And I’m just glad to see your brooding face.”

Andrew _ignored_ that. “You said you were taking your turns.”

“Oh, yes.” Neil faced sideways to Andrew, and then asked, “What is it, that people do, that you hate the most?”

“I hate everything that people do.”

“Oh, come on, Andrew. Not that. I know you don’t like people. But some of what they do that you hate the most?”

Andrew thought of it for some time, before he carefully answer, “I hate it when they touch.”

“When they touch you?” Neil said slowly.

“Yes.”

“Oh, may ask why? I’m taking my second turn.”

Andrew looked away, but he didn’t back down answering, “Some had happened without my consent.”

“Oh.” He looked deflated with that single sentence, that bright mood from earlier evaporated just like that, leaving without a trace.

Neil looked at him. His gaze was intense. And there were rage lied underneath. Was he angry for Andrew?

He didn’t offer anything. Not words of pity. Nor useless ‘I’m sorry’s. He just sat there, seemingly angry on Andrew’s behalf, which in certain level baffled Andrew himself. Neil visibly swallowed. It was a long time before he took a deep breath and he determinedly looked at Andrew right on his eyes. Then said, “I would never, Andrew.”

Andrew, answering his gaze, just nodded. Nobody had ever said that to him.

He hated Neil.

.

The afternoon was getting older, and the sun hid itself in behind red and yellow petals when he told Neil, “I’m taking my turn.”

“Oh, you are?” Neil was lying on the grass, his eyes closed.

“Yes,” he decided, “What was the final straw? Why did you decided that you would try to belong?”

Neil smiled, “As sad as the attempt is?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he considered the question, “I think there wasn’t actually a final straw. I mean maybe I could count my mother’s death, but that was like two years ago. I was so so tired, and every single thing that has happened to me accumulated to that. It wasn’t just an overnight decision. I have been toying with this idea for so long. The wind was guiding me further and further away and suddenly I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. And so I sent that letter to you.”

“Via the wind.”

“Via the wind.” He confirmed, looking at Andrew. Like Andrew was his answer. Maybe he was, in a sense. But he was just a pitiful temporary solution. Andrew could never made him truly belong. It was not Andrew. It could never be. So Andrew determinedly did not answer his gaze.

Andrew truly hated him.

.

It was a fine morning. It didn’t rain and Andrew hated getting drenched, so it was a good sign. He was already leaving when the sun is on its way up. And he almost got out of his village when Aaron stopped him. He was carrying a bag and was not at all at where Andrew thought he was.

“I thought you were in the castle.”

“I need to do something for Abby before I come in. Where are you going?”

Andrew looked down from his position on his mare towards his brother, “None of your business.”

“Some farmers said they had seen you went towards the mountains, Andrew. Not just once. What are you even doing there? Is it one of your client?”

“It’s none of your business.” Andrew repeated

Aaron sighed, “Fine. Do as you may.” He hesitated, “Just, be safe.”

Andrew regarded him.

“I am serious, Andrew. Whatever live behind those mountains, whoever you meet there, it’s dangerous. People might track you towards this person if they require such secrecy, thinking this person might be someone they were looking for. Your reputation is quite high nowadays. People who is looking for someone might try to stalk you. Have you considered that?”

Andrew did. He took different route to the garden every time. Once, he was followed, but they lost him somewhere in the woods. He was being careful. He couldn’t help the situation with the farmers because the only way to the mountains were in between fields. But the mountains was rather far and there are too much of those mountains anyway for these farmers to suspect the exact location.

“Please Andrew, be safe.”

He hated that word so much. Aaron did not know that.

In the end, he just nodded at Aaron and left.

.

And when Andrew finally reached Garden, Neil was nowhere to be seen.

It felt like he had been there before. When he arrived and there were not blue eyes, nor auburn hair. Maybe Andrew had dreamed of this day, that it felt like this had happened before. And these kind of dream had always left him breathless. He reasoned himself maybe he just hadn’t seen Neil, and if he scoured the place, he would find Neil lying somewhere between flower beds.

Andrew would believe that train of thoughts if it was not for the fact that the wind was oddly quiet today. The flowers were not dancing. They were still bright and vivid in their colors. Their smell was still annoying to Andrew as it always had been. But it wasn’t a sight Andrew was used to. Because they weren’t swaying. They had always been swaying before.

Andrew demounted his mare and ran throughout the garden, searching.

But Neil was nowhere to be seen.

Andrew still ran, his pushed his body between the too still petals and leaves. He checked the cave, he looked at the flowing river. He kept searching and he searched for some more. He searched. Searched and searched.

He looked at the flowers, they were mocking him with their silence. Andrew wanted to tear them down. He wanted to brave the woods and the mountains. He wanted to know where Neil was.

He desperately wanted to say that he did not care. But Andrew never lied. And he did care. And he hated it.

He swallowed the lump in his throat before he sat down near the river, the one place he often found Neil sitting at. Maybe, Neil was only late. He would wait. He was here, and his promise was to show up. And that was all.

He tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach.

He hated Neil. And where was he?

He closed his eyes, he would wait. Until the sun came down, he would stay there, waiting. If there was a chance of Neil showing up, he would wait.

He stayed there like that, listening to the water, strangely missing the wind, eyes closed for that he could not stand the quiet flowers. He just did not want to see them.

And that was when he felt it. So suddenly, yet so gently. The wind. It blew from behind him. And fast, Andrew turned around.

And there Neil was. He was still far enough. But he was _there_. Andrew broke into a run. Neil moved closer to him, but he was limping.

Andrew stopped in front of Neil. He looked so tired. He was injured on the leg. But he was alive. And he was there. He kept his end of the promise to come to see Andrew.

A wave of relief crashed through Andrew.

“I am sorry I’m late,” He said, voice low and tired. And he had the decency to sound a bit guilty.

Andrew balled his fists. Tried to put down his rage. Andrew did not even know what anger him.

He looked at him. And then at his trousers that were wet and red. He was still bleeding. Andrew came closer. He raised his hands towards Neil’s calf, and looked at him and asked, “Yes, or no, Neil?”

“Yes,” Neil answered, suddenly breathless. Andrew pulled up the fabrics covering it and looked at the new scar there. It looked small. But deep. Like someone threw a blade there. Probably it _was_ a blade. And Neil had taken it out.

“I am fine, Andrew.”

Andrew glared at him, and helped him sit down, “You stay here.”

And then proceeded to go to his mare and his possession in search of water and fabrics to stop the bleeding. And some herbs that he knew would help.

When he was back, Neil actually stayed put where Andrew left him. Andrew knelt to inspect his wounds, and he looked at him as his hands approached Neil’s calf. Neil nodded for permission, so Andrew began to work. Neil kept looking at him when he worked diligently on the wound. Andrew ignored it.

“How?”

“Ah, I was running.”

“And someone threw a blade to your leg.”

“Yes.”

“Men of your father?”

“Yes.”

“How did you escape anyway?”

“I hid.”

Andrew carefully cover the wound with the fabric, willing the wound to stop bleeding, and tied them.

“Sorry Andrew.”

Andrew stopped working, he looked up to Neil. He had a very strong urge to hit this man himself at the very moment.

Andrew did not know what Neil saw in his face that he urgently added, “For being late. I tried but this leg slow me down and I was—”

“Shut up.”

“Okay. Just want to tell you that, though.”

Andrew glared at him.

“Okay I’ll shut up.”

Andrew ignored him.

When he was done, his hands linger on Neil’s leg. Now when he was not focusing on the task in hand, he actually have time to examine it. Despite the wound, Andrew noticed that it was muscled, courtesy of years of running. Andrew looked away from the leg to the eyes of the owner.

An enormous mistake, it was. For looking into those eyes in this close proximity was even worse than watching his muscled leg.

Andrew hated those blue blue blue eyes.

Neither of them seemed to be willing to look away.

And was it just Andrew, or they actually got even closer?

“Andrew.”

Andrew sobered up, he leaned away and asked, “What?”

“Thank you.”

Andrew grunted.

-o-

**Author's Note:**

> So I read exactly13percent’s I Heard You in the Wind, and I kinda inspired by the mood of the fic, and I want to write something Andreil, winds, flowers, and magic, and this happened! You really really should read I Heard You in the Wind if you haven’t, (There is a link on the beginning notes) it’s really great! I assure you. This one though? I don’t even know what I’m doing.
> 
> And just to be clear, I’m not english native speaker and I tried with this fic, no matter how the outcome is. I hope it is passable enough or whatever. Thank you, though, for reading this.


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